


Moving Day

by alessandralee



Category: Stitchers (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-14
Updated: 2015-09-14
Packaged: 2018-04-20 16:46:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4794842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alessandralee/pseuds/alessandralee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cameron and Kirsten volunteer to help Linus move out of his parents' house, but somehow they get stuck with all the work.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Moving Day

Kirsten drops another box in front of the moving truck with a loud thud. If Linus was out here, he'd probably be glaring at her and lecturing her on whatever delicate computer part she might have damaged.

But Linus and Camille disappeared about ten minutes ago, and Kirsten doesn't want to think about whatever they're doing.

Not that she'd mind if they'd stop doing it and get back to work.

She's wiping a few beads of sweat off her forehead when Cameron walks out the front door with a television box in his hands.

“How did we get roped into doing this?” she asks him.

She honestly doesn't remember agreeing to help. It's like Camille tricked her into it by waking her up at the crack of dawn and just pretending like she'd already volunteered.

“Friendship,” Cameron replies, seemingly unbothered by the manual labor. “Neighbors lend you a cup of sugar, but friends help you move across town.”

There's a biting remark on the edge of her tongue, about how Linus certainly didn't help her and Camille move into Ed Clark's old place. But after an hour of cleaning out Linus's bedroom, she's too tired to make it.

Instead she says, “How does someone who still lives with his parents own so much crap?”

It should be physically impossible. She's been in and out of Linus's bedroom. If all of this had been it in it, there wouldn't have be any room for him.

“He kept his computers in the attic,” Cameron informs her. “And if makes you feel better, that was the last box.”

It doesn't. If they're all out of boxes, then that means they either have to wait for Linus and Camille, or start moving furniture by themselves.

She walks back into the house without any comment.

Now that it's empty, Linus's bookshelf is surprisingly light, and the two of them can maneuver it up the truck's ramp pretty easily. The nightstand is much heavier than it looks, but they get that loaded in too.

The bed is staying where it is, so all they have left to worry about is the couch Linus's parents are letting him take.

Kirsten lies down on it, “We should wait for Linus and Camille.”

They have to be done soon, right?

Cameron shakes his head, “We can do it.”

She looks at him with wide eyes. Maybe they could, but she doesn't want to.

Linus is the one who's moving out. He should be pulling his own weight.

In response, Cameron lifts one edge of the couch up off the ground, nearly throwing Kirsten off it.

“It's not heavy,” he tells her. “I'm stronger than I look.”

Kirsten's first thought is of that night at Cameron's apartment, when she caught him fresh out of the shower.

He looked pretty strong then. He might hide it under button-down shirts and cardigans, but he definitely has muscles.

There's a blush rising up her neck, which Kirsten blames on the indignity of being jostled from her position on the couch.

She gets up and takes the other end of the couch. Maybe it's not a bad idea to just get this over with. The sooner they're done, the sooner she can go home and shower.

Linus and Camille can unpack by themselves. She's done enough. She'll take the bus home if she has to.

They barely make it down the call with the couch before they're both panting and have to put it down. Apparently there's a big difference between a couch being light enough to lift up for a few seconds, and being light enough to carry through a house.

“We could push it,” Kirsten suggests. That might be easier, at least until they get outside.

“It would scratch the floor,” Cameron says.

Kirsten decides life would be much easier if all furniture was on wheels. That way no one has to die trying to move it.

She doesn't share this idea.

After they've caught their breath, they try again. This time they make it out the front door and onto the porch.

Which means they now have to get the couch down four steps.

“Maybe we should just wait for them,” Cameron says. His face is bright pink from exertion. 

Kirsten wonders what the hell that couch is made of that makes it so heavy. Bricks? Lead?

“Absolutely not,” she tells him, bending at the knees to lift up her side of the couch.

She's started something, and she intends to see it through. It's a matter of pride now, and pride dictates they will do this by themselves.

Or throw their backs out trying.

Cameron inches backwards one step at a time, and once she's down too, they stop again. But the time they make it across the grass and down the driveway, neither of them can feel their hands.

They push it up the ramp and all the way to the back of the truck. It wedges in nicely between the nightstand and a folding table.

Then they collapse.

Both of them end up on the couch, at least as much as they can it. It's a tangle of long limbs and an invasion of personal space that Kirsten would object to if she wasn't so tired.

“I need water,” Kirsten mumbles, her mouth covered by the sleeve on Cameron's shirt.

Not enough to get up and get it, though. Maybe it five minutes, when her heart stops beating so fast.

Cameron shifts so his arm's no longer blocking her ability to breathe.

Now she's pretty much lying on his chest with their legs tangled up together.

She should feel embarrassed, or at least uncomfortable. She's not big on touching and this qualifies as way more than just touching.

But she's not. It actually feels pretty nice, with the exception of her aching limbs.

She doesn't move.

Cameron's flannel shirt is comfortable enough for her to doze off on. She's certainly tired enough.

Not really thinking, she curls in towards him. Maybe after a quick nap she'll feel good enough to get up.

“You okay, Ace?” Cameron asks. “I'm not crushing you, am I?”

“You're perfect,” she tells him sleepily.

She almost tells him that he smells good, too, like soap and salt. But her eyelids are slowly closing and talking is hard work.

She's too far gone to notice Cameron's body stiffen around her. She's already dozing off.

Cameron slowly relaxes as he realizes she's asleep. The shade in the truck makes things cool enough that feels nice to be intertwined like this.

She's unconsciously shifting even closer to him when she's jolted from her sleep by the sound of footsteps on metal.

“You two look cozy,” Camille says from the back of the truck.

She and Linus have clearly finished whatever they were doing.

Kirsten barely lifts her head to scowl at them.


End file.
